


An Under League Of Their Own

by Laurence72



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Under Leagues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26190361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurence72/pseuds/Laurence72
Summary: The (mis)adventures of Greg Stone as he attempts to bring Under League Blaseball to the Inland Northwest.
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

“...And that’s why, if I won the lottery, I would buy myself a tropical island somewhere,” Damon said. “Not one in the Caribbean though, too many hurricanes pass through there. So I guess that leaves, what, somewhere in the Pacific? Maybe Indonesia or the Philippines would be willing to let one go?” He turned and looked at his roommate Greg. “What would you do if you won the big one?”  
Greg raised a hand to his chin to demonstrate that he was giving the question some serious thought. Sure, the odds of him winning the $1.4 billion Megaball jackpot that everyone was talking about were slim to none, but that hadn’t stopped him and Damon from going down to the local convenience store and each buying a ten dollar ticket. He had been against doing so at first, but as Damon had convinced him, they were getting their money’s worth just talking and dreaming about what they could do with such largesse just on the way back home.  
“You know, I think I would do something more...” he paused, trying to find the right word, “unique with it.”  
“More unique?” Damon chuckled. “How can you be more ‘one of a kind’ than something else?”  
“Hush, you,” Greg retorted with a small grin. “You know what I mean.”  
“Yeah, yeah. So, you still haven’t answered the question...”  
“Right. Hmm, well, there’s so many things you could do! I mean, I guess the obvious answer is retire and live the rest of your life in luxury, but that feels cliche, and honestly? Rather boring too,” Greg made a dismissive motion with his hands to emphasize the point. “I’d want to use the money to help me to do something exciting! Something that would keep me busy, something challenging, but fun!”  
“Like what? Action safaris, get out there and photograph wild and exotic animals?” Damon suggested.  
“No, travel would be fun, but I like it here in Spokane too much to want to go away for long periods of time.”  
Damon laughed. “Really? What does Spokane have going for it that other cities, like say Seattle, don’t? Seattle has everything Spokane does five times over, and then ten times more other things on top of it! Better museums, nightlife, parks, zoos, splorts...”  
“Hey now! First, I’d put Riverfront Park up against any that Seattle has to offer. Second, you forgot to mention their heavy traffic, overcrowding, and urban sprawl. Now, I grant you, Spokane could use a zoo, and while I’d love to have a pro splorts team here, we’re too small for one to be successful...” Greg trailed off as he came to a halt on the sidewalk.  
Damon paused a couple of steps later. “Inspiration strike ya?”  
“Yeah, I think that if I win Megaball, I’ll start up an under league blaseball team. Sure, Seattle has the Garages, but there’s no reason why Spokane can’t have a team of their own!”  
Damon rolled his eyes. “Besides there being no other teams to play against, and no stadium to play in, because there’s no under league blaseball league in the area?”  
“My friend, you underestimate what a billion, with a B, can do.” Greg gave a soft sigh, and resumed walking. “Not that any of that matters, because the odds of me winning that jackpot are as likely as me learning how to speak Finnish without ever studying it.”  
“Why Finnish? Why not something more useful, like Spanish or Abyssal?”  
Greg found that it was his turn to roll his eyes. “The language doesn’t matter. I was just trying to emphasize how unlikely it is that I would have the chance to follow through.” He gave Damon a lidded look. “Much like how you won’t really have to figure out how to buy an island from a Asian nation.”  
“Whoa! Don’t take my initial uncertainty on where I’m going to look for an island as me not being willing to take whatever steps I need to in order to get one. Besides, you’re the one who never follows through on things!” Damon accused.  
“What?”  
“Yeah! Like how you were going to go back to Community College, after just a year off to figure out what you really wanted to do.”  
“Look who’s talking, Mr. I’m going to find a better job than the fast food one I have!” Greg angrily replied.  
“Oh? And what about YOU claiming that you’re going to sit down and write that book you keep on mentioning?” Damon replied, pointing his finger for emphasis. “You’ve been going on and on about that thing for what, five years now?”  
“Which is still half the time you’ve been talking about learning how to cook!” Greg countered. “How many seasons of cooking shows have you watched while talking about how you’re going to figure how to do even better yourself?”  
The two walked together in silence for half a block before Damon softly said, “You know, it seems the pair of us have quite the problem when it comes to following through on things.”  
Greg nodded his head. “I think that is a fair assessment,” he replied contritely.  
“So here’s a thought,” Damon said as he pointed to the mini mall the two of them happened to be passing by. “See that UPS store?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Well, they have notaries. People who can witness the signing of legal documents to ensure that they are legally binding.”  
“I understand what notaries do, but not what they have to do with our.... Wait a minute!” Greg looked sharply at Damon. “Are you saying...?”  
Damon smirked. “Yup! Let’s go in there, fill out some blood pacts on what we will do if we win the Megaball jackpot, and put to rest any doubts that we will indeed do what we claim we are going to do!”  
“Those things are only for important matters, like getting married or deciding what kind of pet you want to have!” Greg protested. “I hear some really bad things can happen if you don’t follow through!”  
“Which is why it’s perfect for us! This way we won’t be able to keep on sniping at each other between now and the drawing on Saturday. Besides, as you keep on telling me, it isn’t likely that we’re going to have to act on it, right?” Seeing Greg waver, Damon added, “Look, I’ll even pay the fee for it. What’s the worst that could happen, we get forced to follow through on our wildest dreams?”  
“Well, if you’re paying..."

* * *

The remainder of the week passed by quickly, and the roommates sat down on their sofa to watch the drawing of the winning numbers for the Megaball jackpot. Even though it was just a couple of hours after supper, they had a bowl of chips between them for snacking purposes as they waited for the top of the hour to arrive.  
“So, have you made a decision where you would want that island yet?” Greg asked while reaching for a chip.  
“Yeah, looks like Micronesia is my best bet.” Damon replied.  
“Really? I thought you were looking at Indonesia?”  
“Well, I did some rough research. You know, did a quick search on the internet, looked at the first couple of sites that came up. Turns out countries are hesitant to sell parts of their land to foreigners.”  
“I find that very hard to believe!” Greg replied with exaggerated shock.  
“Right?” Damon answered with a smile. “Here’s my take on it. Sure they have a lot of islands that are just too small for them to develop, but they also have so many citizens that it wouldn’t look good for someone else to come in, buy those places, and then use their wealth to build a giant house that looks way fancier than what everyone else in the area has.”  
“So, why Micronesia then? Smaller population means less people to appease?”  
“Pretty much. How about you? Do any research about what it would take to form a blaseball team?”  
“Not really,” Greg admitted. “The most I’ve done is brainstorm team names.”  
“Oh? What did you come up with?” Damon asked.  
“Well, first I thought that maybe I could do a pun of the fact that a native of Spokane is a Spokanite, which sounds a bit like Spokane Nights, or Knights. But that felt a bit too obscure, too easy to miss. So then I thought about what makes Spokane famous. Pretty much the first thing that came to my mind was that we had hosted a World’s Fair back in 1974. Heck, if you look in the antique shops you can still find a lot of memorabilia for Expo 74, so I thought, maybe the Spokane Expos might make a good blaseball team name.”  
“That does have a certain ring to it.” Damon said while munching on a chip.  
“Yeah, but I’m not completely sold on it, to be honest. I mean, sure, living here in Spokane, we know what Expo means, but would someone who lives in a place that hasn’t hosted a World Fair have a clue? I mean, look at the names that the other teams have. Tigers, Flowers, Pies, Steaks. You know what all those are. You don’t need to go look up what a Shoe Thief is!”  
“What’s a Dalé?” asked Damon.  
“Hunh?” said Greg, thrown off of his train of thought by the question.  
“The Miami Dalé. What’s a Dalé?”  
“Um, I think it’s a Spanish word? Something about partying? I honestly don’t know.” Greg replied. “Okay, so one team has a not obvious name for it. My principle is still solid though, if ninety five percent of the teams in the pros follow it.”  
“Fair enough,” conceded Damon.  
“So what else about Spokane can I use? Then I thought, well, if Seattle is known as the Emerald City, and Portland is the Rose City, why not use Spokane’s nickname as the Lilac City?”  
“The Spokane Lilacs?”  
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not as good as Jazz Hands, but really, what is?” Greg pointed at the television. “Hey, look, they’re about to draw the numbers!” Grabbing the remote, he unmuted the channel.  
“Welcome to MEGABALL!” hollered the host. He stood at a podium, in between a pair of giant round steel cages. The one on the left of the slightly overweight man was filled with white balls marked with black numbers, while the one to his right had red balls with gold numerals printed on it, and both were spinning, causing the balls inside of them to all bounce around randomly.  
“Today, one of you watching may become richer than you ever imagined! Since nobody has won the jackpot for the past four months, if someone manages to match all five white numbers, and the red MEGABALL number, you could end up with almost one and a half BILLION DOLLARS!” The host raised his arms high above his head as he yelled out the potential winnings, only to bring them down and straight out to point straight at the camera and the viewers at home. “Could it be you? Let’s find out!”  
A drum roll started playing as one by one, white balls fell out of the cage.  
“The first number is.... SEVENTEEN!” the host cried out.  
“Dang!” muttered Damon. “One number in and I’m already done for.”  
“The second number is.... THIRTY EIGHT!!”  
Greg remained quietly transfixed on the television, while Damon crumpled up his ticket and tossed it towards a wastepaper basket in the corner, briefly scowling when his attempt missed the mark by a couple of feet.  
“The third number is..... SIXTY NINE!”  
Damon chuckled. “Nice, eh Greg?” he asked, looking over at his roommate.  
“Yeah,” Greg replied distractedly.  
“Oh, come on, I know it’s a dated joke but, wait a minute, are you...?”  
“Three for three,” Greg said, double checking the ticket is his hands.  
“The fourth number is.... EIGHTY ONE!”  
“Holy crap!” said Damon. “Even if you don’t win the jackpot, you’ll get a few thousand dollars just for matching four numbers! What’s your last white ball number?”  
“Fifty two.” Greg whispered.  
“The fifth number is.... FIFTY TWO!”  
Damon put his hands to his head in disbelief. “Hot Damn! I think even if you don’t match the Megaball you still get like a hundred thousand!”  
Greg was staring so intently at the screen, he didn’t even notice that his hands were shaking.  
“And the MEGABALL is.....”  
Damon glanced at Greg’s ticket. “C’mon six! Six, six, six!” he chanted.  
“SIX!!!”  
Damon jumped up, knocking the remainder of the chips onto the floor as he whooped in disbelief. “You did it! You freaking did it! I don’t believe it, you won!”  
Greg slumped back into the sofa, stunned by the moment, but with a smile starting to spread across his face. Looking up at Damon, who was still jumping so much that the people in the apartment below were starting to yell at them to settle down, he said “I’m going to be a billionaire!”

* * *

“So, Mr. Stone, after federal taxes, state taxes, income taxes, prize taxes, the national mandatory one percenters tax, the county lottery prize tax, the international prize tax, and the noise complaint penalty you incurred on the night of the drawing, you will get to keep one hundred and eighty six million dollars for yourself.” said the sharply dressed lawyer to Greg.  
“Bwuh?” Greg replied.  
“I know that may seem to be something of a let down, but consider two things,” the lawyer continued. “First, due to how taxes on lottery winnings are structured, if you had won a jackpot of less than five hundred million dollars, you would have ended up owing several thousand dollars in taxes, with nothing to show for it.”  
This snapped Greg out of his funk. “Wait, really? Why would anyone even buy a ticket then for one of the early jackpots?”  
“Well, sir, they are commonly referred to as a stupidity tax for a reason,” the lawyer replied, doing his best to let only the smallest amount of smarm enter into his voice.  
“Fair enough. What’s the second point?” asked Greg.  
“Your net worth has gone from being measured with just five digits to now needing nine. While not as grand as a billion, a hundred million is nothing to be upset about.”  
“Yeah! You’re right!” Greg’s smile returned.  
The lawyer raised a fist to his mouth and coughed into it. “If I may ask, sir, will you be requiring the services of a private lawyer?”  
“Do you think I need one?”  
“Oh, absolutely sir. As you may have guessed by the frankly ludicrous amount of taxes on your winnings, governments the world over will be looking for ways to relieve you of your remaining wealth. Add in either legitimate or bogus claims that you have outstanding debt to pay with compound interest, scam artists looking for a chance to make a quick buck, and charity agencies hoping to find a new benefactor, I feel that I will be able to save you more money than what my fees will cost you.” Raising a hand to prevent Greg from asking a question, he said, “And yes, hiring me full time will be significantly less expensive than hiring me or someone else on an hourly basis, and this way you won’t have to worry about my attention being divided among other cases or duties.”  
“Hmmm, good points,” Greg conceded. “Are you limited to finance law, or would you be able to help me with other things?”  
“While no lawyer is an expert on all facets of the law, I do have a solid base to work from, and obviously with you as my only client, I will have plenty of time to do research on whatever part of the law you may find yourself coming into contact with. I assume you have some sort of plan for your winnings? Perhaps real estate, or starting up a business of some kind?”  
“You could call it a business, I suppose.” Greg considered things, and then stood up and extended his hand. “Very well, Mr. Barrell, consider yourself hired. Let’s get your contract worked out, and then you can help me with what you might call a passion project of mine.”  
“Very good sir!”


	2. Chapter 2

_Three weeks later_

  
Looking out the window of his hastily erected office, Greg took a short break from filling out paperwork and making phone calls to watch the construction crew working on the blaseball stadium he had paid for. He recalled a saying that his father was fond of telling him that he referred to as the Rule of Two. If you wanted something done for you, he had said, you could choose two of the following; get it done fast, get it done well, or get it done cheaply.  
"Luckily," Greg mused to himself, "I don't need to worry about the cheap part." The stadium was being built next to the Spokane Interstate Fairgrounds, much to the delight of the owner, as it meant he would make a lot of money not only from the sale of the once vacant field that Greg was now building on, but also for parking for games through the use of the already existing parking lots in place for the fairgrounds. Already Greg could see the general shape of things to come; the diamond itself, the dugouts for the teams, and the bleachers that would be able to hold over five thousand fans with room to easily double that if the demand proved to be there.  
His reverie was brought to a halt by a knock at his door. "Come in!" he called as he sat back down in the chair behind his desk.  
In came Jennifer Sunshine, an ever perky blonde woman who he had hired to help manage affairs. Part secretary, part focus group leader, she was more than happy to do whatever task she gave her. "I've always wanted to work in blaseball," she had told him during the interview, "and I know that I just don't have the physical skills to play at a high level. So I've been studying the business side of things, hoping for a chance to prove that I can help a team in my own way to win it all." Greg had been impressed with everything she had shown him so far, and had not once regretted hiring her.  
"Hiya boss!" she said as she closed the door behind her. "Ready for the midday updates?"  
"You bet." Greg said. "What do you have for me?"  
"First off," Jennifer said, referring to a small stack of papers she was holding, "as you can see, construction is moving along quickly and steadily. There have been no setbacks or delays, and if things continue this way, it'll be ready for use in just a couple of weeks."  
"Excellent!"  
"Also, we've finally heard back from the Spokane School District, and they have agreed to let us lease the use of the facilities at North Central High School for tryouts and training until the stadium here is available for use."  
"So that means?" Greg asked.  
Jennifer nodded. "We've gone ahead and put out ads in the newspaper and online saying that tryouts will be happening tomorrow and the day after. I've also put out word that we'll be accepting bids for advertising around the stadium, as well as stadium naming rights being for sale."  
Greg smiled. "Wow. Things are sure moving along! Is that everything?"  
"Nope! We also have the results back from the focus group." She paused, looked through her papers, and pulled one out. "Some of the results are a bit..." she trailed off, looking a bit annoyed.  
"What's wrong? Are they telling us that there is no demand at all for a local Under League team?"  
"Oh no, nothing like that. In fact, you may want to get ready to put in an order for that bleacher expansion you have an option for. Let me just read off what they've come back with." Seeing Greg nod at her, she cleared her throat and started to read.  
"First, for the uniforms, they like using a pink and lavender color scheme. with white letters and numbers. They think it not only does a good job of standing out from what other teams have, it also stays true to the Lilacs name by being the same colors usually found associated with the flower."  
"Sounds good so far." Greg said.  
"For a team motto, they feel that it would be effective to continue with the flower theme. While there is no unanimous consensus of what to go with, the clear leader is 'Watch out, we're not pansies!'"  
"I don't hate it," said Greg, "and I can't think of a better one off the top of my head either. That said, it feels a little bit lacking."  
"Agreed." Jennifer replied. "I'll have them keep working on it. Finally, the team mascot." She pulled a paper from the pile and handed it to Greg.  
After studying for a second, he said, "It's a lavender llama."  
"Yes. Named Llily." she sighed.  
"Won't that be, um, confusing to have it be the name of another flower?"  
"According to them, no, because it's spelled with two Ls, just like llama. It's alliterative, they say. Llily, the Lilac's lilac llama." Looking again at her papers, she continued. "I'm not a fan of it myself, but it's better than the other suggestions they came up with."  
"Do I want to know?" Greg asked.  
"A marmot was in second place, and other suggestions included a walking lilac bush and a pothole."  
"A pothole? How... you know what? I don't want to know, because it most certainly is NOT going to be a pothole. I guess see where the marmot suggestion goes, and run a public vote between it and the llama." Greg put the paper down on his desk. "Anyway, thank you very much. So, I guess the only other item left is, how goes the search for a team manager?"  
"Well sir, while we do have a couple of candidates lined up for interviews this afternoon, I would like to tell you that I also want the job."  
"While I believe you would be capable," Greg said, "are you certain you will have time for it with everything else you're doing?"  
"It'll be tough for the first week or so," she admitted, "but after that most of my duties will be done. Mainly what I'm doing is just making sure that things get set up properly, and the rest can easily be handled by someone else once things are officially up and running."  
"All right then. I'm partial towards you because of everything you've managed to accomplish so far, I think it wouldn't be fair if I didn't follow through and do the interviews as planned. Just add yourself to the list, please,"  
"Thank you very much. The first candidate will be in after lunch, at one o'clock."  
"And thank you, Jennifer. I guess I'll see you again later today."

* * *

It was a warm summer afternoon the next day at the recreation area of North Central High School. Standing in the outfield, Greg watched as Jennifer, dressed in a Spokane Lilacs uniform, ran the tryout attendees through their paces. In the end, it had been an easy choice to make her the team manager. Nobody else he had interviewed had even half of the knowledge or passion for the game that Jennifer had displayed.  
One after another, she had them take their turns at batting, fielding, and baserunning, with those trying out as pitchers serving up the balls to be swung at. Greg didn't have to do too much, as most hits resulted in ground balls or short pop flies that the prospective infielders handled competently for the most part. Every now and then though, someone would connect solidly with a pitch, and Greg would hustle over to be in position to catch it on the fly. He did poorly on the first few, but after that he found himself getting the hang of it and only dropped a couple the rest of the way.  
Finally Jennifer, or Manager Sunshine as she insisted everyone who was trying out call her, blew a whistle and called them in for a final huddle. "Good work everyone. As we still have another day of tryouts tomorrow, I won't be able to tell you if you made the team or not right now. I'll make sure to give you all a call in the next few days after we go over everything to let you know if you're on the team or not." After a round of well wishes and goodbyes, Greg and Jennifer found themselves alone and started to pack up the equipment they had brought.  
"So, how do things look?" asked Greg as he lugged a bucket of balls back to his car.  
"Not terrible, but nothing to be excited about either," she replied. "A bunch of rec leaguers and second string college players. We could put together a team that could probably win any Fourth of July picnic tournament, but not one I would pay to go watch in the stadium you're building."  
Greg winced. "That bad, huh?"  
"Maybe I'm being a little harsh," Jennifer conceded, "and with some serious training a few of them could make decent players. Heck, you fall into that category yourself with how quickly you were figuring out how to do things in the outfield. But we need at least a few star quality players to form the backbone of the team, to be its leaders and provide the rest something to aspire to."  
"Well, there's still tomorrow-- wait, what did you say about me?" he asked.  
"You heard me," she said with a small smile. If we can't get a full outfield of above average players tomorrow, I'll probably pencil you in for right field. It'll save you the cost of a salary, if nothing else.  
"Ha! So, do you think we'll have better luck tomorrow?"  
Jennifer shrugged. "Who can say? I'm not completely surprised at the turnout we had today. I had just been hoping for at least one person to build around is all." Climbing into her car, she added, "Show up half an hour earlier tomorrow, so I can see how well you handle a bat before everyone else arrives, okay?"  
"Will do." Greg said.

* * *

Greg quickly learned that he hated batting. while he wasn't hopeless at it, it was by far the thing he was the worst at. After a couple dozen wild swings, Jennifer did her best to help him develop a more organized approach to it. While it helped him some, it didn't come easy to him.  
The two of them worked at it until they saw a large, solidly built man approach them. Greg guessed that he was at least six foot five, and if he couldn't easily lift a couple hundred pounds with his physique Greg would have been shocked.  
"Greetings!" said the newcomer with a booming, gregarious voice. "I am here for the tryouts for the blaseball team! Am I in the right place?"  
"Yes, you are." Jennifer replied. "You can call me Manager Sunshine, and this here is Greg, a potential outfielder."  
"Wonderful, wonderful! My name is Kasparov Ukulele. As you can guess with a name like that, it was either join the mob as an enforcer or become a blaseball pitcher. And so, here I am!"  
"Well," Greg said, "I'm glad that blaseball was your choice."  
After a pause that felt just a hair too long to Greg, Kasparov replied, "Yes! Haha! Yes, this was most certainly my first choice. Hahaha!"  
Sharing a quick sideways glance with Greg, Jennifer said, "So, you said you were a pitcher?"  
"Oh yes! I may not have had too much practice, but I can assure you that I am able to throw a blaseball very fast and accurately. Hitting the strike zone with a fast ball is very much like throwing a rick at a person's head, after all!" After a pause long enough to worry Greg, but not quite long enough for him to voice his concern, Kasparov continued, "Not that I have a long history of doing that, no! Haha! That would be silly. Come, let me demonstrate for you!"  
"O-okay," Jennifer said, tossing Kasparov a ball as she headed towards home plate. "No need to go all out right away, I still need to warm up some."  
Greg watched from the side, deciding if Kasparov accidentally threw a wild pitch, it would be safer to be well away from where the ball might end up. While he couldn't say for certain just how hard Kasparov was throwing, Greg felt confident in thinking that it was faster than anything he had seen yesterday by a fair margin, and pretty accurate too. After a few minutes of pitches, Jennifer kept the ball and walked out to the mound to talk to Kasparov.  
"That was easily the best I've seen," she told him. "I still need to finish trying out everybody else who shows up today, but I would be very surprised if you weren't not only on the team, but also our number one pitcher."  
"Ah, thank you very much, Manager Sunshine! It fills my heart with joy to know that I won't have to worry about going back to my old job..." The big man trailed off, and he looked like he was remembering something that he didn't want to. His face started to slowly turn into a rictus of fear, until suddenly, as if a switch had flipped, his large smile returned. "Yes! I am going to love life playing blaseball! Hahaha!"  
Jennifer wrote down his contact information, and after a firm handshake, Kasparov walked away. Greg walked up next to her and in a hushed voice said, "That was weird, right?"  
"A little," she replied, "but that's good."  
"What?!"  
Jennifer gave him a hard look. "Yes, weird is good. I mean, look at you. You're a newly minted multi-millionaire, and instead of retiring to a life of luxury, you're here hoping to play right field for a blaseball team. Lots of people would call that weirder that Kasparov."  
Greg was about to retort when a loud booming bass line erupted from across the field. His train of thought derailed, he turned to see a black man approach them. Carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a boombox in the other, he moved in a manner that Greg could only define as smooth. With a confident nod to them, he stopped around ten feet away and placed his load carefully on the ground. Holding up a hand to delay any questions, he started bobbing along with the beat, and then started to rap.  
"My last name's Crosby, and my first is Bling,  
And when it comes to blaseball, here's the thing:  
You'll want me on your team, and that's the truth,  
Because on defense, I'm totally ruthless,  
With the skill to kill their will, it's a thrill  
As I ace my case for a place at third base!  
What's that? How's my bat? Well, my stats with the pine  
Will leave you wondering can I get him to sign?"  
Bling reached down to turn off his boombox, and looked expectantly at Greg and Jennifer.  
"Well, I still need to see what you are actually capable of," Jennifer said. "But if you're even just half as good as your flow is, I think we'll be doing just that. You can call me Manager Sunshine." she said, holding out her hand.  
Bling reached out and shook it. "An honor to meet you."

* * *

At mid afternoon the slow but steady trickle of people trying out had come to a momentary halt. Greg walked over to Jennifer, who was looking through some notes she had made on a clipboard. "How are things looking?" he asked.  
"Much better," she replied without looking up from her notes. "I think now we may be able to field a team that will keep fans coming back to watch more. We've got a solid infield, a passable outfield, and a pitching crew with a player who may even get scouts from the ILB to come see him." Jennifer paused and frowned slightly. "We still have a big hole at catcher though."  
"Is it that important of a position?"  
"Oh, definitely. From directing the pitcher where to throw the ball and framing their catches to make borderline pitches look like sure fire strikes, to throwing out runners trying to steal a base and being the last line of defense at stopping someone fro scoring at home, it's one of the most important positions on the team."  
"Maybe I can help with that?" said a very soft woman's voice from behind them.  
They turned around to see a short, stick thin girl in her twenties with waist long metallic grey hair. With a dubious look on her face, Jennifer asked, "And you are?"  
"My name is Kia Sorento, and I would like to try out for catcher, please."  
"That's an interesting name," Greg replied. "Like the SUV?"  
"Um," the girl replied, "I think until recently I actually was one."  
"What."  
"I know, it sounds really silly, but it's true!" she said pleadingly. "Remember that big thunderstorm that came through a couple of weeks ago?"  
"Oh yeah," said Jennifer. "It knocked out the power on my block for an hour or so after one of the lightning strikes hit an electrical line in my neighborhood."  
"Well, during that storm, the security cameras at a used car lot show a Kia Sorento, the same color as my hair. Then there was a bright flash of light, followed by several seconds of static. Then when the picture returns, the vehicle is gone, and where it was there was just me, lying on the pavement in the rain. I can't remember anything before I woke up there, I seem to have wifi, and GPS, and I can see behind me like I had a back up camera..." Taking a moment to gather herself, she continued, "They have run all sorts of searches and tests to find out who I am, and they haven't been able to come with anything about me, or the SUV that disappeared. I'm pretty sure that I am that SUV, somehow. The police don't want to believe me, though. They've put me in a hotel room for now, while they try to figure out what to do with me."  
"I'm sorry to hear that," Jennifer said, "and I'm glad that you're receiving some help. But we are a blaseball team, not a charity, so if you want to be party of the team, you are going to have to show that you are capable."  
Kia brightened up. "Oh, just watch me! Um, I'll need a glove though. And a mask. Um, all the gear that I catcher needs, I guess?"  
Jennifer pointed to a pile of equipment. "You should be able to find it all there."  
"Thank you!" Kia ran over and after a few moments of adjusting some straps to make the padding fit her frame, she walked over to home plate and said, "Ready when you are!"  
Walking onto the pitcher's mound, Jennifer started off with a few easy, slow pitches. Seeing that Kia had no problem with them, she then started throwing harder pitches, ones that weren't straight at her, and even a few that bounced in the dirt or threatened to fly over Kia's head. She managed to successfully catch them all. Satisfied with what she was seeing, Jennifer motioned Greg over to her. "I want you to be a base stealer for us. We don't have anyone else to catch her throws, but I should be able to gauge if her throws will be good enough to throw you out."  
Greg walked over to first base, and started to run to second as soon as Jennifer started her pitch home. Kia would then catch the ball and then throw it to where she hoped an infielder would be covering second base to try to tag Greg before he safely tagged. They did this several times for both second and third base, and from what Greg could tell all but one of the throws Kia made would have likely gotten him out easily. Jennifer nodded in approval and asked Kia, "Are you up to trying to see how you would do with trying to stop someone scoring at home?"  
"I'm willing to try, but..." Kia paused, looking pensive. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."  
"Don't worry!" Greg called out as he took his place at third base. "I'm going to try to hurt you."  
"If you insist?" Kia asked resignedly. Seeing Jennifer nod, Kia sighed, crouched down, and said, "Okay, I'm ready whenever you two are."  
At Jennifer's signal, Greg charged down the baseline towards home, prepared to slide when he got close enough. Right as he did so, he saw Kia catch the ball and step between him and home. Panic filled him as he knew he wouldn't be able to change his path in time to avoid hitting the girl when, just for a flash, no longer than the blink of an eye, the girl in front of him was replaced by the SUV that shared her name. It was there just long enough for that to be what he crashed into, leaving him a stunned heap a few feet short of the plate. Kia for her part reached over to pick up the ball she had dropped when she had switched forms, and used it to easily tag Greg out.  
"What? How did?" Greg stammered.  
Jennifer walked over. "I have no idea how you did that." she stated.  
"I'm not really sure myself," Kia admitted. "I only seem to be able to do it in situations where I'm about to be hit or something like this," she said, motioning at Greg. "It just... happens."  
"Is it reliable enough for you to be able to use it like that consistently?"  
"As far as I know, yes."  
"Well then, with some training, I think you'll do just fine. We're pretty much done for the day, so I feel I can safely tell you that you're on the team."  
"Hooray!" Kia cheered. "With a job, I'll be able to afford a garage for myself!"  
"Or maybe a house?" Greg asked as he stood up and brushed the dirt off of his clothes.  
"Oh, yeah, that too!" Kia giggled. "I just don't like sleeping on a bed though, they're way too soft for my comfort."  
After getting Kia's phone number and watching her jog off, Jennifer turned to Greg. "Well, ask and you shall receive, I guess?"  
"Does that complete the team?" Greg asked in reply.  
"I think so. Now we just need to get them together, run some practices, get everyone used to being together as a unit, and see if we can find some other teams to play against. We have what, two weeks until the ball park is ready?"  
"Around there, as long as there aren't any setbacks with the construction work."  
"All right. I'll schedule our first practice for next Monday, and hopefully by the weekend we'll have found some other teams locally to play against. We won't be at our best yet," she warned, "but since it will just be glorified pick up games, we won't need to be in order to see where we stand and what we need to improve on."  
"I'll see what I can dig up then," Greg said with a smile. "My dream is that we stir up enough interest in the area that we can get a small, eight or ten team league going next year." Greg looked around and said, "Things sure are looking up right now."


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was shining brightly and lending its warmth to the late summer morning. A small crowd of a couple hundred people were gathered in front of a stage that had been erected in the parking lot of the still under construction blaseball stadium. A banner stretched across the back of the stage read “MEET THE LILACS”, and a local radio personality was acting as the emcee for the occasion.  
“Welcome, Lilac fans!” yelled the slightly overweight man into the microphone he was holding. “Thank you all for joining us on this special occasion! In just a couple of hours over in Idaho, your Spokane Lilacs will be playing their first games, one in Post Falls shortly after noon, and then an evening battle against Coeur d’Alene. Some of you have paid for the privilege of traveling in the official party bus, some of you will be driving themselves over, and hopefully the rest of you will be tuning in on the radio where I, Dennis Lukens, will be doing the play by play on 840 AM! But who are your Spokane Lilacs? Let’s find out!”  
Dennis gestured off to the right side of the stage, where a barrier had been raised. “First, let’s meet the manager of the team, Jennifer Sunshine!” Wearing her Lilacs uniform, she walked out from behind the barrier to stand on the far left of the stage, waving to the crowd as she did so. “Batting lead off, your first baseman, George Badgerson!” The crowd clapped and cheered as a stocky man with short, wiry brown hair went to stand next to Jennifer.  
“Next, your center fielder, Amie Macadamia!” A taller, athletic woman with shoulder length black hair appeared. “And after her, playing third base, Bling Crosby!” The rapper sauntered across the stage, taking his spot in the ever growing line of uniformed teammates.  
“Batting clean up, your designated hitter, Maladicta Lavazza!” A muscular redhead smiled and pretended to swing a bat as she crossed the stage. “Fifth in the lineup, Ransack Impelton, your left fielder!” A lanky blonde man strutted to his spot on stage, giving the crowd a salute. “After him, at shortstop, we have Tanya Bellpepper!” A brunette with short curly hair took her place next to Ransack.  
“Seventh, at second base, it’s Junebug Mayfield!” A shorter woman with blonde hair that draped her shoulders appeared next, waving to the fans. “Batting eighth, Kia Sorento, our catcher!” She went and stood next to Junebug, her long hair tied into a ponytail. “And last but not least, not just the owner of the team but also its right fielder, Greg Stone!” Greg looked slightly embarrassed by the loud cheers he got as he joined the team on stage.  
Dennis waited for the crowd to quiet down. “And now, let’s meet the pitchers for the Lilacs! First up, we have Xeno Martina!” A man with an olive complexion and black hair came onto the stage. “Next, Helga Schellenberger!” A tall, husky blonde came out, pointing and waving to several fans who were chanting her first name. “After her, Caroline Eickler!” Waving a prosthetic hand above her head, the black haired woman went and stood next to Helga.  
“Pitching against Post Falls, we have Paul Wheeljack!” A gaunt man with bleached hair took his spot in line. “And finally, pitching against Coeur d’Alene, Kasparov Ukulele!” The big man only had to take a couple of steps to reach his spot on stage.  
“Let’s have one more big round of applause for these fine folks, your Spokane Lilacs!” Everyone on stage waved as the crowd gave one last round of applause as they cheered and whistled. “We’ll see you in Post Falls!”  
After watching the crowd disperse and noticing that workers were waiting for a chance to pack up the stage that had been rented for the event, Greg went to go get his equipment bag from his car. He paused halfway there, seeing someone standing next to it, and then smiled as he recognized who it was.  
“Damon! How are you doing?” Greg called out as he jogged over to his now ex roommate.  
Damon waved and waited for Greg to come closer before responding. “Oh, besides being in a new place, pretty much the same old same old.”  
“Still working at that burger place? I could give you a job around here, if that wouldn’t be too weird for you.”  
“Thanks for the offer,” Damon said with a wry smile. “But I think I’ll pass. I know the work I do can suck away at your soul, but it seems to suit me, I guess. I’m glad to see things are working out for you though.”  
“So far, anyway, knock on wood.” Greg said, rapping a fist against the top of his head. “Are you going to be at the games today?”  
“You bet! I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”  
“Good.” Greg looked back at the team bus, where other members of the team were slowly making their way onboard. “Sorry I can’t take the time now to catch up, I gotta go get on the bus, but hopefully sometime later today?”  
“Oh yeah, I’m sure there will be time between games for that.” Damon held out his hand. “Good luck buddy!”  
Greg grabbed it and shook it. “Thanks!”

* * *

After a bus ride of half an hour, the bus got off of the interstate and into what passed for downtown Post Falls. A town best known for its eponymous waterfalls and taking up the space on the map between the larger cities of Spokane and Coeur d’Alene, it hadn’t been on Greg’s mind while searching for places to have teams for the Lilacs to play against. Its location though made it a natural stop though to squeeze in an afternoon game on a trip east, so he had happily agreed to the match up.  
Welcomed by a sign that read ‘Welcome to Splortsman’s Park!’, the bus found a parking spot on the side of the road. The parking lot was already mostly full, as were the portable bleachers that had been brought in to accommodate the anticipated crowd of several hundred fans. Greg smiled as he joined his teammates in huddling around Jennifer. His dream was finally coming true.  
“Okay, everyone, listen up! There’s no dugouts, no changing rooms, just a basic set of outhouses over there,” she said as she pointed off to a stone building across the way. “This is as bare bones as it gets. Don’t let that change your mindset! This isn’t just some scrimmage or practice game. This is our first game, ever! Do you want to be known as a team that lost its first game?” After hearing only a couple of dissents, she yelled, “I didn’t hear you! Do you want to lose?!”  
“No!” yelled the team in return, getting into the spirit of the thing.  
“If that’s all the effort you’re going to put into things, then we might as well get back on the bus! DO YOU WANT TO LOSE?”  
“NO!” they hollered as loud as they could.  
“There we go! That’s the fire I want from you! Let’s go get warmed up!” Jennifer jogged onto the outfield, and started the team on its stretches. Satisfied that everyone was doing what they should be, she walked over to Greg, who was working on limbering up his arms. “So, are you sure there’s going to be an umpire here for the game?”  
“Oh yeah. It was strange. I was just about to look up online where to hire one, and the phone rang. The caller ID didn’t list a name or number, just the words ‘Pick up now’. So I did, and a weird, echoey voice said, “Umpires will be there for both games.” and then hung up. Next thing I knew, there was a notice in my email saying that we would be receiving a bill for umpire services at the end of the month.”  
Jennifer grimaced. “Well, either someone pulling an elaborate prank on us, or-”  
“This is no prank.” said a shadowed figure wearing the padded outfit of an umpire who had somehow appeared behind Jennifer.  
Yelping in panic, Jennifer turned around. “Where did you come from?”  
“Union headquarters.” He held out a hand. “Do you have your lineup card ready?”  
“Uh, yes, right here.” Reaching into her back pants pocket, she pulled out the requested card and handed it over.  
After quickly looking it over, the umpire returned his gaze to Jennifer. “Thank you. I will make the call to start play in half an hour.” Not waiting for a reply, he turned and walked over to the Post Falls team.  
Watching him cross the diamond, Jennifer shivered for a second. “That is going to take some getting used to. Okay everyone, you heard him! Half an hour until game time. Let’s get ready!”  
The team spent the time stretching and throwing the ball back and forth, keeping limber, before heading over to the benches on the third base side of the diamond. Behind the backstop, the umpire called both managers over to him. “Post Falls Heights, are you ready to start?”  
“You bet we are!” replied their manager.  
“Spokane Lilacs, are you ready to start?”  
“Yes sir!” answered Jennifer.  
“Then, let’s-”  
Right then, the ground began to shake violently. Panicked screams came from the fans and those standing soon found themselves on their hands and knees.  
“Does this happen often?” yelled Jennifer.  
“No! Especially not like this!” the Post Falls manager said.  
And then, as suddenly as it had started, the shaking came to a stop. A couple of cries of pain could be heard, but what had most people’s attention was the playing field, where the entire infield inside of the base paths had become a several foot deep sinkhole.  
As the chaos slowly wound down and people regained their feet and helped the injured, the umpire stared at the field before turning back to the team managers. “Due to the field becoming unplayable at no fault to anyone, I declare this game cancelled with no penalty to either side. You may decide among yourselves if and when to reschedule.” Looking at Jennifer, he added, “I will see you later today.” and then walked away.  
Greg walked over to Jennifer. “Is the umpire just going to walk there?” he asked, watching the departing figure.  
“Maybe? Look, he appeared behind me suddenly, maybe he can teleport. I don’t know.” She looked over at the Lilacs, who were helping out with making sure everyone in the crowd was okay. “How is everyone?”  
“Startled but fine. Paul’s miffed that he won’t get to pitch today, but he’s more concerned about everything else right now.”  
The bus driver walked up to them. “So, I take it we’ll be moving on early? Oh, and there’s some rumbling about refunds from the crowd who were on the party bus?”  
Greg grimaced. “Yeah, part of the fee was paying to get them into the games. Pass on the word they’ll get a refund for the tickets for this one.”  
“Will do. When do you want to head on to Coeur d’Alene?”  
Jennifer gave one last look around the area. “Let’s give things at least fifteen more minutes, make sure that everything here is going to be okay before we leave.”  
Greg started to head back to the rest of the team when he heard someone calling his name from the bleachers. Looking over, he saw Damon waving at him. Greg waved back and made his way over to him.  
“Wow! That was wild!” Damon said after Greg had climbed his way up to him. “Talk about putting the pit in pitcher’s mound!”  
Greg rolled his eyes at his friend’s wordplay. “Yeah, this certainly wasn’t anything I ever expected. Also, I find it more than a bit creepy how perfectly inside the baselines that sunken area is. That shouldn’t happen like that?”  
Damon shrugged. “Maybe when they built the field, they did something weird to the ground? I don’t know. At least nobody was on it when it happened at least. So what now?”  
“We’re going to make sure everyone here is okay, then head on over to Coeur d’Alene early. Maybe we’ll do some sort of meet and greet with the fans since we’ll have a few hours to kill. Will I see you there?”  
“Absolutely! I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

* * *

After the meet and greet and a quick meal provided by some food trucks, the Lilacs once again boarded their bus for the ride to Lake City High School, the site of their game against the Coeur d’Alene Weekenders. While their time that afternoon had been jovial and laid back, Greg could feel the anticipation build among his teammates. They were putting the earlier weirdness behind them, and getting ready for the game to come. By the time they had reached the parking lot, there was an electricity in the air. There would be no need for Jennifer to get them pumped up this time. They were ready for whatever the other team would throw at them.  
Which made what they saw as they got off the bus all the harder to come to grips with. Thousands upon thousands of birds circled in the sky, perched on the seats, and blanketed the field. The cries of the assembled avians were constant, making it hard to be heard. Seeing the team from Coeur d’Alene standing nearby, they headed over for an explanation.  
“What’s going on?” Jennifer yelled at the opposing team’s manager.  
“I have no clue!” he hollered back. “We were getting some last minute practice in when they just started arriving en masse. They’ve been here for maybe ten minutes now? I mean, some of them are hawks! They’re supposed to hunt smaller birds! This makes no sense!”  
A small disturbance could be seen in the flocks, and then the umpire emerged from them and approached. “We will need to work together to try to scare them away,” the umpire said. It’s words were perfectly clear through all the noise, although Greg was certain that it wasn’t raising its voice at all. “If we are unable to do so, I will have to cancel this game much like I did for the previous one in Post Falls.”  
“Any suggestions?” Jennifer asked.  
“Well, we could turn on the sprinklers, that might scare some off.” The manager for Coeur d’Alene suggested. “Maybe drive our buses up to the edge of the field and use their horns? Worst comes to worst we can just get out there ourselves and try to shoo them away?”  
Unable to come up with anything better, they sent someone to turn on the sprinklers while the players spread out to cover as much area as they could. At first, they seemed to be successful; the sprinklers made the flocks in the outfield take wing, and the players managed to do the same with those in the infield. As soon as the players moved farther onto the field though, the ground they had previously cleared soon became littered with birds once again. Soon, they found themselves surrounded, and while the birds hadn’t tried to hurt them yet, there was an uneasy aura to the area that suggested that if the players were to try more forceful methods, that truce might not last.  
Finally, the team bus and several other cars from fans were lined up, and with flashing headlights and the blaring of horns, they slowly drove forward. Just when it looked like that they would have to stop to avoid running over dozens of birds, the assembled flocks took to the sky. The chirps and tweets of the flocks were replaced by the thunderous flapping of wings, and the sky became dark as the assembled avians flew away. Finally, silence and normalcy returned.  
The umpire motioned for the managers to approach him at home plate. “I am ready to receive your line up cards now.” he said, holding out his hands.  
“Um, we aren’t going to be able to play,” stammered the manager for Coeur d’Alene.  
“What? Why not? We got rid of all the birds!” said Jennifer.  
“Yeah, but they seem to have carried off every single pitcher we had!”  
“You’re kidding me!”  
“I wish I was!” he exclaimed. “But it’s the truth! Don’t ask me how, but that’s what they did!” He pointed to several other members of his team piling into cars and racing off. “We’re going to see if we can’t follow them so we can rescue them. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to postpone this game until later.” With that, he took off for his own car.  
The umpire turned to Jennifer. “This is most unfortunate. Do you want to wait around to see how things work out?”  
Jennifer sighed. “ I guess? What do you suggest?”  
“I would recommend waiting at least an hour, and if events have not been resolved by then, I would say the best course of action would be to do as he suggested and postpone today’s game until a later date.” the umpire intoned.  
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Jennifer walked over to where the Lilacs had assembled and motioned to them to listen.  
“Here’s the situation. We’re going to wait an hour to see if they can’t get back their pitching staff, and if they can’t do that, then we’ll have to head home.” Hearing moans from the team, she added, “I know, this isn’t how today was supposed to go, but what can we do? At least we’re not the ones chasing after a horde of birds to rescue our teammates.”  
They broke up and started doing some stretches and playing some light catch to keep occupied, but it soon became apparent that their hearts weren’t into it. Slowly, the hour passed, and Jennifer told the umpire to call off the game for the night. Feeling disheartened, Greg sat down on a bench, and was approached by the driver of the party bus.  
“Hey, the customers are getting pretty upset over both games being cancelled. What do you want me to do?”  
Greg sighed. “Tell them to call our offices tomorrow, we’ll arrange for full refunds.” A buzzing from the phone in his pocket distracted him. “One sec,” he said as he looked at who was calling him. “I may have something else you can tell them.”  
Greg walked away from the bus driver and listened to the person who had called him, asking questions in return. After a couple of minutes, he walked back. “Okay, tell them this. They can either get full refunds, or use what they paid as credit towards next weekend’s team bus trip. I just got word that we have a full weekend of games set up. Three games, two on Saturday and one on Sunday. We’ll have the full details up online shortly, but the cost will include meals and overnight lodging.”  
“Will do. Thanks.” The bus driver turned and walked back to his vehicle. Greg watched him leave, and then stood up to walk towards the Lilac’s team bus. Halfway there, he saw Damon waiting for him.  
“That was crazy!” Damon exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything like that before, and I hope I never see it again too!”  
Greg shook his head. “What a stupid day this was. Two games cancelled because of the most bizarre things ever. Man, I can’t imagine what the papers are going to say.”  
“Oh, I think I can,” Damon said with a grin. “Blaseball game gone to the birds!”  
Greg laughed. “Right, of course they would use a cheesy headline like that, wouldn’t they?”  
“Yup. So, any regrets about all this?”  
“Oh, not in the least! I’d be doing this even if I hadn’t signed a blood pact!” Greg said. “Look, I need to get going, they’re getting everything on the bus, and I don’t want to have to walk home tonight.”  
“No problem! I’ll catch up with you later, okay? asked Damon.  
“You bet!”  
As Greg and Damon parted ways, Jennifer watched them head off, and then pulled out her phone and dialed a number. “Hello? Is this Mr. Barrell? Hi, this is Jennifer. Yes, from the blaseball team. Look, I was wondering if you could look up something for me? I just overheard something that Greg said, and it has me worried...”


End file.
